[thebends]

For those of you who watched Peter Mansbridge interview Gord Downey last year this should resonate. From Peter's Instagram ...

[loach]

Jeff Lemire print now available here

<!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="https://www.thepushp.in/shop/gorddownie">https://www.thepushp.in/shop/gorddownie</a><!-- m -->

proceeds go to Downie Wenjack Fund.

#433 here. Thanks for the link

455 here. Was at a show last night and woke up a bit late this morning :lol:

In for #517.

[sean.bonner]

I didn't know that you were leaving us today
I guess I thought that you would always choose to stay
I know you know that I will miss you being here
I know you've thought about this change in your veneer

I sometimes want to freeze the moments in our time
And activate the breeze and blow it in the pines

I am leaving but you can't deny the way
I've thought it through and it's got to be today
The summer's gone and I have looked around
The need for me is not what I have found

Of evergreen and lasting winter till it thaws
To take the chance to know what's hidden in the claws

Life's just a moment and it's not where you have been
It's not where you're gonna go, it's in the room you're in

I didn't know that you were leaving us today
I guess I thought that you would always choose to stay
I know you know that I will miss you being here
I know you've thought about this change in your career

Of evergreen and lasting winter till it thaws
To take the chance to know what's hidden in the claws

I thank you for this time and it won't go away
The winter's calling me, and baby I can't stay

[Tthip]

I didn't know that you were leaving us today
I guess I thought that you would always choose to stay

Mr Langlois, ever omnipresent.

[stanslow12]

I didn’t know him, but he was a huge part of my life. His music spoke to me like no others have. I’m bawling as I write because for days I’ve been trying to figure out how to, what to, say. It’s a selfish feeling.

[potsie]

I've found the enormous public response to Gord's passing to be very comforting over the past week. Without the MMP tour and Gord's most recent Indigenous activism the reaction would have unfortunately been much more muted, and that would have been a great shame. Everyone on this forum knew that Gord was a Canadian icon prior to 2016, but having the general public now recognize this has provided some consolation.

On Thursday, I received the following email from my oldest son's teacher (grade 6):

Dear families,

I just gave the class some family homework.

With the passing of Gord Downie on Tuesday evening I thought about the fact that many of the kids might not know why he is a Canadian icon. Today we watched a couple of interviews that touched on his activism in the areas of reconciliation and water protection. We also listened to the Tragically Hip song Bobcaygeon.

My homework was for them to ask parents what their favourite Tragically Hip song is, listen to the song with parents, discuss why they like it and what it means to them and then copy and paste lyrics into an email to my <!-- e --><a href="mailto:ldonelan@gnspes.ca">ldonelan@gnspes.ca</a><!-- e --> (student email account) or print the lyrics for class tomorrow. If their parents are not from Canada or say they don't know Tragically Hip's music then they should search for songs and listen to one and get the lyrics but will be unable to share a story about why the music is important to their parents.

We will share in groups tomorrow and look at the poetry of his lyrics.

Hopefully you will have fun with this . I know there were a lot of bonfires during the summers of my youth where the guitars were out and my friends and I were howling these songs at the moon. I do not own a single Tragically Hip CD yet the music still became the soundtrack to a large portion of my life.

Thanks in advance for helping create a snap shot of why we call Gord Downie a Canadian Icon.

This was the best homework he will ever get! My sons each picked one song (Three Pistols for the younger fella, and Locked for the grade sixer... coincidentally the two most recent poll winners) and we discussed lyrics, music, and meaning. For me, there was no better way to process the loss then to talk to my kids about why it all means so much to me, and in turn, hopefully groom the next generation of Hip fans.

[ikky99]

I've found the enormous public response to Gord's passing to be very comforting over the past week. Without the MMP tour and Gord's most recent Indigenous activism the reaction would have unfortunately been much more muted, and that would have been a great shame. Everyone on this forum knew that Gord was a Canadian icon prior to 2016, but having the general public now recognize this has provided some consolation.

On Thursday, I received the following email from my oldest son's teacher (grade 6):

Dear families,

I just gave the class some family homework.

With the passing of Gord Downie on Tuesday evening I thought about the fact that many of the kids might not know why he is a Canadian icon. Today we watched a couple of interviews that touched on his activism in the areas of reconciliation and water protection. We also listened to the Tragically Hip song Bobcaygeon.

My homework was for them to ask parents what their favourite Tragically Hip song is, listen to the song with parents, discuss why they like it and what it means to them and then copy and paste lyrics into an email to my <!-- e --><a href="mailto:ldonelan@gnspes.ca">ldonelan@gnspes.ca</a><!-- e --> (student email account) or print the lyrics for class tomorrow. If their parents are not from Canada or say they don't know Tragically Hip's music then they should search for songs and listen to one and get the lyrics but will be unable to share a story about why the music is important to their parents.

We will share in groups tomorrow and look at the poetry of his lyrics.

Hopefully you will have fun with this . I know there were a lot of bonfires during the summers of my youth where the guitars were out and my friends and I were howling these songs at the moon. I do not own a single Tragically Hip CD yet the music still became the soundtrack to a large portion of my life.

Thanks in advance for helping create a snap shot of why we call Gord Downie a Canadian Icon.

This was the best homework he will ever get! My sons each picked one song (Three Pistols for the younger fella, and Locked for the grade sixer... coincidentally the two most recent poll winners) and we discussed lyrics, music, and meaning. For me, there was no better way to process the loss then to talk to my kids about why it all means so much to me, and in turn, hopefully groom the next generation of Hip fans.

GENIUS!!! I'm doing that with my 9 & 10 year old boys tonight! I bet one of their teachers would do it too....

[Indie Smash]

Good evening , It’s been a crazy week . I live in Buffalo and the week started with a Buffalo K9 officer missing in a diving accident . He was a member of the underwater recovery team and his line broke and he was swept out by the rushing water. His dog , Shield , was at the scene and when he was released from the patrol car , he raced to the water and frantically ran up and down looking for his partner . They found his body 5 days later on Tuesday . The city was in mourning . I woke up Wednesday and was out in the yard with my dog before work , and my wife Jackie called me . She rarely calls me , a text usually suffices . As soon as she started talking I could hear in her voice something was wrong . I asked her what’s the matter . She said didn’t you hear. Gord had died . She was crying uncontrollably. I hadn’t checked my phone that morning so I didn’t hear . I tried to say the right things to her but I was a little numb. I told her I loved her and she had to go . I left for work and on the way I listened to the live “ Grace too “ from Now for Plan A from Calgary . I love the rant and the energy . I remember listening to the song right after I heard about the diagnosis. I went through a long day at work listening to the Hip catalog and got home and hugged my wife . We talked about all the Hip shows we saw . All the songs we sang . All the lyrics we always add to our cards to each other . A 14 year marriage defined by the Hip and all our trips to see them. We saw them 60 times since 1999 so there are so many great memories . One of our favorites was bringing my stepson Nolan to his first Hip show , New Year’s Eve in Hamilton 2004 shortly after we got married . We sat in the 2nd row . He was 15 at the time. He became a huge fan and got all of his friends turned on to the band .
As I said earlier it was a crazy week , because amidst all the sadness with the Buffalo K-9 officer and Gord’s passing , my wonderful smart, funny stepson got married yesterday . He married a beautiful girl named Ashleigh. The rehearsal dinner was Thursday night and there was plenty of talk of Gord and the wonderful memories . I was lucky enough to spend a small fortune and take my wife and him to Kingston for the final show . There was no way we were going to miss it. The trip and show were once in a lifetime .
At the wedding , for the Mother-Son dance they had already planned to dance to the Hip . They started out slow to “ Long Time Running “ and then the song cut into “ In View . “I Love You, You know I do “ ! It was wonderful and a great moment to honor our life loving Gord and the band . As the night went on the normal wedding songs were played and the dance floor was packed. The DJ announced it was the last song and the night seemed to be over . Then the Hip chant started until about 25-30 of us joined in. The Dj appeared to be packing up, but he stopped . He played “ Bobcaygeon “ , which happened to be the first song my wife and I danced to at our wedding in 2004 . Everyone was swaying, singing and dancing. The night ended with a raucous “ Grace too “. Everyone in a circle hugging and singing at the top of our lungs. Even one of the waitresses joined in . Simply a magical moment that ended a perfect evening .
The sadness everyone felt since the news Wednesday morning was released in a cathartic moment on a dance floor in downown Buffalo . I realized Gord is gone but the legacy of the Hip and his wonderful solo albums will always be with us. As long as we all carry them in our hearts he will always be here .
Thanks to all the fans over the years who I met and all the contributors on Hipbase where I was more of a stalker than a contributor over the years . I thank any of you that read this far and leave you with a lyric I write on the wife’s anniversary card every year .
You infiltrate my life
You resonate with meaning
I wrote I love you on a rock one night
And threw it never dreaming
Now our dreams are where we're at
What we can feel and touch
Its work we understand
We don't want for much

[redhill]

I've found the enormous public response to Gord's passing to be very comforting over the past week. Without the MMP tour and Gord's most recent Indigenous activism the reaction would have unfortunately been much more muted, and that would have been a great shame. Everyone on this forum knew that Gord was a Canadian icon prior to 2016, but having the general public now recognize this has provided some consolation.

On Thursday, I received the following email from my oldest son's teacher (grade 6):

Dear families,

I just gave the class some family homework.

With the passing of Gord Downie on Tuesday evening I thought about the fact that many of the kids might not know why he is a Canadian icon. Today we watched a couple of interviews that touched on his activism in the areas of reconciliation and water protection. We also listened to the Tragically Hip song Bobcaygeon.

My homework was for them to ask parents what their favourite Tragically Hip song is, listen to the song with parents, discuss why they like it and what it means to them and then copy and paste lyrics into an email to my <!-- e --><a href="mailto:ldonelan@gnspes.ca">ldonelan@gnspes.ca</a><!-- e --> (student email account) or print the lyrics for class tomorrow. If their parents are not from Canada or say they don't know Tragically Hip's music then they should search for songs and listen to one and get the lyrics but will be unable to share a story about why the music is important to their parents.

We will share in groups tomorrow and look at the poetry of his lyrics.

Hopefully you will have fun with this . I know there were a lot of bonfires during the summers of my youth where the guitars were out and my friends and I were howling these songs at the moon. I do not own a single Tragically Hip CD yet the music still became the soundtrack to a large portion of my life.

Thanks in advance for helping create a snap shot of why we call Gord Downie a Canadian Icon.

This was the best homework he will ever get! My sons each picked one song (Three Pistols for the younger fella, and Locked for the grade sixer... coincidentally the two most recent poll winners) and we discussed lyrics, music, and meaning. For me, there was no better way to process the loss then to talk to my kids about why it all means so much to me, and in turn, hopefully groom the next generation of Hip fans.

this is beautiful

[ashtrayrock]

Jeff Lemire print now available here

<!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="https://www.thepushp.in/shop/gorddownie">https://www.thepushp.in/shop/gorddownie</a><!-- m -->

proceeds go to Downie Wenjack Fund.

thanks for this
i'm order # 637

[dpontefract]

I paid homage to GD on HuffPost. <!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/59eeaa82e4b06bbede69b361">https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/59 ... bede69b361</a><!-- m -->

[Jenna_Bird]

Hey all.

It's been awhile and we're all hurting.

I'm not sure that there's anything I can add that hasn't been said, or that there's much beyond a selfish sense of loss that keeps spewing out of me. I suppose it is the way that everything in my life is knit with this band. That some songs still reduce me to being that awkward 15-year-old begging her mother to drive her to Philly on a Tuesday night to go watch a bunch of middle-aged Canadians sweat and sing. That I thought this all could go on forever. That this has been a lovely community that made me feel a little less alone through college and beyond. Again, all selfishness. But God.

Grieving this at southern edges of Ohio is a lonely thing.

Thanks to you all for making it a little less so.

Much love.

[chagrinfalls]

Good evening...
As I said earlier it was a crazy week , because amidst all the sadness with the Buffalo K-9 officer and Gord’s passing , my wonderful smart, funny stepson got married yesterday . He married a beautiful girl named Ashleigh. The rehearsal dinner was Thursday night and there was plenty of talk of Gord and the wonderful memories . I was lucky enough to spend a small fortune and take my wife and him to Kingston for the final show . There was no way we were going to miss it. The trip and show were once in a lifetime .
At the wedding , for the Mother-Son dance they had already planned to dance to the Hip . They started out slow to “ Long Time Running “ and then the song cut into “ In View . “I Love You, You know I do “ ! It was wonderful and a great moment to honor our life loving Gord and the band . As the night went on the normal wedding songs were played and the dance floor was packed. The DJ announced it was the last song and the night seemed to be over . Then the Hip chant started until about 25-30 of us joined in. The Dj appeared to be packing up, but he stopped . He played “ Bobcaygeon “ , which happened to be the first song my wife and I danced to at our wedding in 2004 . Everyone was swaying, singing and dancing. The night ended with a raucous “ Grace too “. Everyone in a circle hugging and singing at the top of our lungs. Even one of the waitresses joined in . Simply a magical moment that ended a perfect evening .
The sadness everyone felt since the news Wednesday morning was released in a cathartic moment on a dance floor in downown Buffalo.

"Then the Hip chant started:", lol. Thanks for sharing this story. Hip fans are the greatest~

[direwolf74]

Beautiful article by Dave Bidini in Macleans.

<!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="http://www.macleans.ca/opinion/the-gift-of-gord-downie-he-gave-everything-he-had-to-this-world/">http://www.macleans.ca/opinion/the-gift ... his-world/</a><!-- m -->

There are two images that sustain me when I think of Gord Downie.

The first comes from a 1995 concert at a fieldhouse in Burlington, Vermont, just across the Quebec border. In 1995 and 1996, we shadowed the Tragically Hip, opening slews of shows for them around America and Canada. We ate and drank and got high together; we shaved our heads together; we watched playoff hockey games in hotel bars, and we took in each other’s shows, studying, studying and stealing. Those were hard times—lots of travel, and long hours wondering if it was worth the push—but they were good times, too. Even though a canyon separated the nature of the Hip’s success and ours, the feeling prevailed that we were in it together. Gord made sure of that. At first, Burlington felt like just another show: doors cranked open, kids arriving, beer sold, lights down, opening band, more beer, intermission music, lights down again, and then the Hip. “Fifty Mission Cap,” “Courage,” and “Wheat Kings.” Merch, payouts, per diems and bus rides. We rolled it over, and did it again.

Every night, Gord made sure the music was just a little different. The band played their hits, mostly, but each concert was a new leaf, each vocal approach twisted into its own thing. I was there. I saw it. I don’t think he repeated a single between-song rejoinder nor parroted any pre-loved patter, all of this in a modern entertainment where performers are taught to hew to formula and to give the people what they want, which is usually the audience’s four favourite songs and a pandering approach meant to sell hoodies and membership in a fan club.

In concert, Gord probed and explored new ways of verbal and vocal expression, inserting a headline here, a song snippet there, a ribbon of conversation overheard in a diner or gas station where we’d stopped for gas and fries with gravy. He invented melodies within the known repertoire that emerged into new songs on subsequent albums and tours. I don’t think people have grasped how hard it is to perform without a default setting; if anything, invention was his default setting. His mind raced, and the band charged hard and kept up.

Gord’s capacity to work at his art might have seemed obvious to some, but chances are a lot of crowds were too busy having a good time to recognize the gift: the mind working like a set of spinning clock hands to produce something fresh in a world of quantized mixes and auto-tuned singing. This is to say nothing of the energy and focus required to birth the songs new, night after night, the rest of the band locking it down so that Gord could walk his tightrope. Bands are lousy with egos, and everyone in the Hip had theirs, but rarely did anyone pass an elbow at Gord’s waist and ask him to stand next to the drum kit while Bobby Baker soloed. Instead, they tethered their friend as he sailed overhead. It worked beautifully.

That night in Burlington, the Hip’s set ended, and they gathered backstage to draw out plans for an encore. I headed back to grab a snack or drink or pack up our CDs when I came upon the guys huddled against a gymnasium wall. I retreated, not wanting to bother them, but stood just out of sight and watched. Gord Sinclair counted potential songs on his fingers while the rest of the guys either nodded or waved off selections. Gord Downie stood with one arm on Sinclair’s shoulder looking physically devastated, panting, flush-faced with hair and sweat pasted against his forehead and barely able to catch a breath. Sinclair held him up and the singer said nothing, leaving the other guys to sort out the encore. Gord had wrung everything he had out of his body to play the show: a Tuesday night in a fieldhouse in Vermont. They walked up those little stairs back to the stage, where they performed “Blow at High Dough” like their hair was on fire.

The second image that will stay with me happened while playing hockey with Gord, something we did all the time throughout the ’90s and early 2000s. Gord was a beautiful, gentle, personable cat, but he was hard as nails if you skated into his crease. He was tough-assed and competitive and he gravely met the task of playing goal with hard-edged devotion. Intense doesn’t come close to describing how hard he tried on the ice, matching his love of the game with his effort. He wasn’t a beer-league Dominik Hasek, but that’s beside the point. There was no use talking to Gord before or during a game. He’d resolutely put on his armour and caged facemask, sinking into the severity of the role.

One night, I arranged a game outside at a neighbourhood rink in Toronto’s Wallace Emerson community centre. Officially, the skating rink closed at 9 pm, but there were no gates, so we just made our way into the rinkhouse, slid into our gear, and skated out to the ice. The game was lit by streetlights and the occasional passing car, none of its passengers aware that the tall goalie in the hotdog-bun pads and equipment from 1976 was, in fact, Canada’s rock-and-roll laureate, kicking out a leg to stop the puck from finding the corner.

The game was close, 5-5 going into the third period. It was a warm night, so plateaus of ice kept chipping off parts of the rink, yielding little frozen stars with every second shot on goal. Gord yelled, “Can’t see! Can’t see!”, his exhortations the result of screening defencemen and the general low light surrounding the play.
Finally, with a few minutes left, there was a breakaway. The skater pulled Gord wide, carrying the puck to the far side of the net. Gord slid the length of the crease, taking away the rest of the net. I could hear my friend’s shoulder crunch as he came down hard to the ice. He laid there for a moment as the puck leapt over the boards out of play, then pushed himself back to his skates. I skated over to him and and asked: “You okay?” “Of course, I’m okay,” he said, sweeping the crease with his stick.

The next day he called to apologize for being short with me on the ice. I told him, “Buddy, no, I get it,” but he said it was uncalled for.
“So. You okay?” I asked him.
“Shoulder’s kind of sore,” he said, clearing his throat.
“No s–t, eh?”
There was a pause, and then he repeated:
“But ya. I’m okay.”

What these two memories tell me is this: the guy tried. He tried at everything. He gave everything he had to this world, and he kept on giving until he could not. It’s beyond what any of us should expect from heroes or role models or artists we love, but it’s beyond what we expect from friends or family members, too. Gord threw himself at time, fate and the universe. Maybe that’s why he was the way he was when we saw him on stage: way deep in the heart of the gyre, spinning and contorting and speaking closer to the source than most of us will know. He made it look easy, but it was not. The force required to sustain his devotion, and the energies needed to keep pushing deeper were challenging—this made his kindness and altruism even more astonishing—and yet he always found his way back up those little steps.
He kept moving, moving, searching, searching. I can’t imagine him not doing this, wherever he is.

[knightrider]

"Hello"

I want to thank all of you, music lovers, my kindred spirits in loving The Hip and Gord, for helping me process my grief over the past week, through your stories and posts. Like many of you, I am feeling this loss very deeply and personally, even though I "only" knew Gord and the band as a fan. Reading your expressions of grief helps me feel less alone in this. It's a bit embarrassing actually, but it feels very much like losing a close personal friend and I've thought about that a good bit and tried to understand why his loss hurts me so deeply that I have shed tears over it not just once or twice, but literally at some point every day for the past week. I am sad and grieving like I lost a family member, but how could I begin to explain that to anyone? I've never felt this depth of grief for a person who I didn't actually know personally, and quite frankly for very few who I actually did know. It feels selfish too, because I know my life will go on, but for his family and close friends, their lives are forever altered. I can't really even explain my grief to myself and only a few of my friends here in the states even know about the band...

I think part of it may be compounded by my own age and station in life. I'm only a few years younger than Gord and the boys. His death and the end of the band feels very much like the undeniable end of my own youth. They've been the soundtrack of my adulthood, especially through my mid-20's after I first saw them in (I think) 1993, through my 30's and past 40. Now 50 is almost here. The band members "settled down," got married & had kids, but still rocked-on. So did I. They were still cool as hell. Especially Gord. If they could be that cool in their 40's and 50's, there was hope for us, right? I looked forward with great excitement to every new record and every U.S. tour that followed. Similar to TSN James Duthie's comments in his piece, they were blaring on my deck, on my boat, in my workout headphones at the gym and eventually they were softly rocking me through long vacation roadtrips while my kids slept in their minivan carseats. It hurts to realize there will be no more new shows or tours. Maybe some new Hip material at some point, but no more new memories, only the glorious ones we had. Better to have loved and lost, and I'm So. Incredibly. Grateful. for those memories and for the band forging ahead with small venue tours and stopping in or near my town over and over. Their shows in those little clubs and theaters are all my favorite concerts ever. Always will be and there's no close second. I was always amazed that I was able to see and experience this incredible band in small rooms and I still am. It was like a secret I shared with a few special people, like we deked the masses of sheep on the way in and got to see vip shows in intimate settings with the greatest band ever. After awhile, it just felt like we knew them, like they were actually our friends. I still feel that way.

Anyway, I think many of you feel the same and I'm grateful for your kinship in that. But part of what my soul searching has revealed about my love and admiration for Gord is that he was such a beautiful example of the kind of person I'd like to be. He taught me to dance and sing and to be myself. He loved to describe the paradoxes in life, but he was one himself, as this intense rocking frontman who was above all a kind, sensitive and gentle person and he showed me, as a young man, that it was not only cool to be respectful and kind to each other, and to women in particular, but it was expected and required. How many times have we all heard him remind us to "take care of each other" or our dates? I read someone's story the other day, probably here, about a couple's one chance they had to meet him, and how friendly and kind he was - and that he told them to take care of each other. And I feel like that could have just as easily been me and my wife. That's exactly how I would imagine it, had we had the chance. I don't think I thought too deeply about it at the time, but what a contrast that message was when compared to the testosterone-infused blatant objectification messages brought to us by MTV videos and popular rock bands of the time, such as Motley Crue for example. So many bands glorified the conquering of girls, girls, girls and it's not like we really needed much encouragement. We were young, drunk and selfish. Gord had us hooked on him and the band and the music. Completely. And then told us it was cool to be kind and that we were responsible for each other. To be respectful, to show restraint. I'm pretty sure I needed to hear that at the time and I know my friends did. I'm really grateful for it now, in hindsight.

So thanks again fellow Hip lovers and please "take care of each other," for Gord. Love, Chris